Happy Stupid-Holiday Day To You, Too
by Jehilew
Summary: Rogue's having a good day, y'all, and she's going to make sure Remy does, too! Just some Valentine's Day fluff/smut in Valle Soleado, Evo-Romy style!


**Okay. So this was _supposed_ to be a Valentine's Day request for Xegv, but I'm a little late on that one. _Oops_. Hope you enjoy it, in all it's lateness, anyway, my dear! **

**Anyway, this is set in Valle Soleado, but is evo-verse. These kids are all grown up now, Rogue and Gambit are early twenties here. And as per usual with me...canon-schmanon?**

 **Also. Guys. If you Tumblr, so do I. Name's the same, jehilew. I mostly reblog a lot of random shit, but occasionally, I put up content related to things I do here, like teasers, upcoming works, etc. I'm also getting back into drawing again, and have plans to illustrate a few 'She's...' things in the future. I mean, not that I'm trying to entice any of you into checking any of it out or anything... ;)**

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Man, I'm telling ya, I'm having one hell of a good day, y'all.

I kicked it off by gettin' the cure first thing this morning. I hadn't planned on gettin' it. In fact, I'd quite firmly decided against takin' it after it came out months ago. Might've thought differently if it was just a deal where you walk in, get a shot, and you go home cured and good to go. But it ain't- it's an on-going, two part process that honest to Jesus sounds like a total pain in the ass- you gotta go see a doctor for an injection every two months, and then they send you home with two months' worth of pills you gotta take at the same time every three days. Nah. Pass. I was good and happy, and remembering to take a birth control pill everyday forever is a big enough inconvenience, thanks.

Then, two weeks ago, my mutation took an unpredictable turn for worse, a session with Xavier triggerin' an evolution that allowed me to tap into all previously borrowed mutant powers. Unfortunately, I couldn't control that shit, either, resulting in me spontaneously flaring up with some borrowed power or another at random times every few days or so, some of them turnin' into dangerous situations for those around me. I mean, I put my man in the infirmary so enough times over the past two weeks, he's got a bed with his name on it.

No, really. There's actually a cot in the medbay with _Remy Etienne LeBeau_ engraved (with the goddamn flourish of a professional calligrapher, no less) into the metal frame. The smart-ass used his fingertip to burn it in out of sheer boredom during one of his stays.

Anyway, so yeah, I'd finally been in a happy place of acceptance with my stupid power, I was engaged to the love of my life, who was gonna do his damnedest to give me what I've always wanted, blasted white picket fence and all, and then _this_ happened. Like, thanks? Fuck you, too? Especially since all this bullshit started up a mere _three weeks away from our wedding_.

Yeah. Let _that_ sit for a minute. Clearly, I didn't already have enough shit to stress out over, amirite?

Which lead me to thinkin' some relaxation on a beach in paradise was in order, so we headed out here for a little _R and R_ in Valle Soleado. Mama Irene had left me the cutest little cottage, right on the beach, too, and I ain't even kiddin', the place looks like something out of a fuckin' _Coastal Living_ magazine. Me and my mamas used to come here every winter since I was about ass-high to a duck, but then Mama Irene died a few years back, and neither me or Mama Raven have been back out since. Figured it was high time this place got a good breakin-in, Romy style. _Heh_.

Anyway, yeah, we got here yesterday, thinkin' a bit of sun and fun and sleepin' in would help calm my shit down enough to get through the wedding. And things were _fine,_ til I had the fuckin' nightmare from hell last night, and phased myself straight through the bed _and_ the floor beneath it. Words can't even describe my level of pissed (or squicked, if I'm being honest) about waking up to my half-phased, bare butt (it just _had_ to happen when it's my night to sleep starkers) sitting in the crawl space _grossness_ under the house, with my head popped up through the floor for a _spectacular_ view of all the dust bunnies under the bed. To say that I was worried about unphasing like that, with my neck and shoulders stuck in the wood floors is a disgusting understatement. And Remy? Did not help my stress levels by laughin' himself stupid after pullin' my panicked ass up out of the floor. I mean, sure, he was the best of Prince Charmings to my damsel in distress in the heat of the moment, jumpin' up, shoving the bed outta the way, and pullin' me up, but...yeah. _After..._

He's such a jackass sometimes. It's a good thing he's so adorable in his good moments and a total wildcat in the sack.

Needless to say, I got to re-thinkin' my stance on that cure. Because seriously, you think there's a chance on this side of the Mississippi that I'm just gonna _let_ my mutation going haywire fuck with my chi now? No ma'am, no sir. Not my wedding, not my honeymoon, not my sunset. _Newp_. Not after all the bullshit it's put me through. Not if I can help it. So I made the executive decision to cure the bitch. Just a temporary thing, to last me til after the honeymoon. Remy ain't aware of this decision, I woke up and set about my business before he so much as twitched, but he will be. Soon. Because the rest of my day? Yeah, I spent it preparing to seduce that delectable Cajun of mine into oblivion tonight. Because, really, what better way to tell him?

I may or may not have bought a whole new, touchy-touchy-friendly honeymoon wardrobe-I-mean-lingerie-collection while I was at it. _Giggity_.

So here I am, gorgeous, pampered, and smooth as silk from a day at a nearby ultra posh spa (amazing how fast last minute openings come up when you can drop names like Elizabeth Worthington-Braddock, former supermodel and now wife to none other than Warren Worthington III), carryin' a couple of bags with all kinds of sexy little goodies from La Perla and Agent Provocateur, and gleefully thinkin' about all the dirty, _filthy_ things I'm gonna do to my favorite swamp rat as I let myself in the house.

"Hey, babe, I'm home!"

I get no answer, but with the mouth-waterin' aroma and the sound of zydeco music comin' from the kitchen, I'm ain't even bothered. Remy's cookin', and evidently, he's in the mood for the comfort foods he grew up on. I can already feel an extra ten pounds pilin' up on my ass and thighs, 'cause let's be honest, that man's cookin' is fattening as hell and is absolutely to _die_ for, he cooks a ton of it at a time, and it's just a sin to allow any of it to become leftovers.

I quietly make my way to the kitchen, droppin' my bags on the table, and stop just to stare that man of mine. He's wearin' an old pair of jeans that has seen better days and a wife beater, and is currently slavin' away over something scrumptious in a huge pot. He's got all the windows open, all the ceiling fans on, and has a beer opened up on the countertop.

Somebody's feelin' homesick.

He's so engrossed in what he's doing, he doesn't even know I'm there til I slip up behind him and slide my hands up his ribs. "Hey, handsome. Whatcha makin'?" I ask, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"We boilin' tonight, chere. It be ready in a bit," he replies, turning around to cup my face in his gloved hands and press a quick kiss to my lips. He always wears the gloves for me, and I seriously could just eat him up for it. I'm so stinkin' excited to tell him he doesn't need them, I almost blurt it out. He pulls back with a smile, his _real_ one. "Afternoon, beb. Missed y' when I woke up this mornin', yeah?"

"Mmm-hm, had a couple of errands to run. Gotcha a few things while I was at, too, sugar," I answer with my lip in my teeth and a gesture back in the general direction of the table. His eyes follow and fire up upon noticing the bags, that smile splittin' into a wide grin when he recognizes where they came from.

"And _you_ ," I practically purr up at him, "are about in for a fun night, sugar." _That_ earns me a series of kisses peppered across my mouth. God, he's just perfect, I swear. He's the only person who bothered to figure out that it actually takes a couple of seconds for my absorption to kick in, and he's been kissin' and touchin' me ever since. I'm utterly delighted that tonight, he won't have to break contact every two seconds. "Startin' right now," I add, reaching up and briefly catching his earlobe in my teeth.

 _Boom_. Instant hard on, y'all. Doesn't take much to get Remy going, and he's already slidin' those hands possessively over my hips, fingers diggin' in as he pulls me up hard against him. I slip my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers up in his hair. God, I love him, and I honestly just cannot _wait_ to actually touch him.

Smiling at him, I lean in and press another lightenin'-quick kiss to his lips before pullin' away. "Gimme five minutes, sugar," I tell him over my shoulder as I leave the kitchen. "And make sure you don't burn dinner, 'cause I'mma be real damn hungry after I'm through with you."

I'm pretty sure I just heard him mutter something about the whole fuckin' kitchen burnin' down for all he cared, and I giggle all the way to our room.

Once there, I act quick. Five minutes ain't long, y'all, and Remy won't actually give me the full five. Rummagin' through my purchases, I decide on the red lace and mesh teddy and stockings, rippin' off the tags on the way to the bathroom. I quickly shimmy out of my clothes and put on the new lingerie. A quick touch up of my red lipstick, a stingy dab of perfume to my wrist, a little fluff of my hair, and I'm ready. All this get-up needs is that _gorgeous_ pair of red Jimmy Choos Emma'd given me last Christmas.

"God bless that woman," I coo out as I reverently pull those sexy-ass heels out of their box sittin' inside my still-and-likely-never-will-be unpacked suitcase just outside the bathroom door. Goddamn, Remy's gonna _choke_ when he sees this shit!

Just as I finish puttin' 'em on, Remy walks into the room, and he stops dead in his tracks when he sees me. Those stunning eyes flare up as they slowly drag down to my heels and back up again, the promise of pure damn delicious sex etched in every angle of his face.

I straighten up slowly, smirkin' at him, the whole way. "See somethin' you like, sugar?"

"Chere, you stop this poor ol' Cajun's heart, y' so beautiful," he answers in a thick, throaty voice.

I show him my teeth and point to the bed. "You. There. Now."

Hot damn, the look he's givin' me now, and he's got that insufferable smirk all over his mouth as he tears of his shirt, jerks open belt, and drops his pants to the floor. "Yes, ma'am," he replies smoothly. "What now, boss?" He flirts, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers.

Catchin' my lower lip in my teeth, I saunter toward him, sliding my hands over my hips and up to cup my tits. He leans back on his hands, and spreads his legs a bit more, putting his incredible body on display as he slowly rakes his hot-eyed gaze over me. Oh man, I love it when he does that. Because while he takes his time drinkin' in the sights, he knows I always look him over much faster, quickly admirin' his shoulders and chest before zipping my gaze down that thin, coppery pleasure trail down south. While I'm starin' at him, he reaches down, pulls out his dick, and starts stroking himself.

I lick my lips, practically salivatin' as I watch him. One thing I've always wanted to do was go down on him without a condom, and I'm _so_ lookin' forward to this.

"Got y' some chocolates over there," he invites through that grin of his, waggling his brows and noddin' his head off in the direction of the nightstand. Momentarily distracted, 'cause chocolate can _do_ that to a girl, I look over. And I almost start laughing. Bless him, he is _so_ unsubtle when he wants a blowie, because sittin' on top of the furniture is a Valentine's Day themed box of chocolate flavored condoms

"Hmm, no need for those, sugar," I purr at him, smiling at the brief look of disappointment on his face. I step in between his legs, giving my nipples a pinch. It doesn't feel like it does when he's doin' the pinchin', but it feels good, nevertheless, and I give a little hum of pleasure for his benefit. Grinning wider, I notice the twitch in his groin in response and I drop to my knees in front of him.

"Chere?" He asks in surprise and no small amount of excitement, his head cocked to the side. I never get this close with so much bared skin, it's been my one rule since we got together, and I've been an absolute bitch-stickler for followin' it. And god love this man, never once did he push me on that boundary, securing my complete trust in him a long time ago.

My eyes never leavin' his, I smile up at him, slowly lean forward, and give him a lick. He hisses in pleasure, and I lick him again. And again, and again, and then I press my lips against him, kissin' him, rubbin' my tongue over him, then pullin' him into my mouth. All the questions he has are dead in his mouth, strangled by a rough groan as he closes his eyes and enjoys it.

And hell, I'm enjoyin' it, too. I always do, but havin' him like _this_ is... Well. You have no idea how thrilling it is for me, knowin' that flavored condoms are now only something I'll do when I _want_ him to taste like candy, not something I _have_ to do. Not to mention, this is incredibly hot, and as I push his legs further apart and take more of him in, the combination of his taste, his smell, and starin' down at him, seeing the affect I'm havin' on him, all while hearing him pant and grit out curses in three different languages... Lordy me, this is _easily_ one of the biggest turn-ons I've ever experienced!

"Oh fuck, chere," he groans, his hips jerking, his dick, too, like it does when he's getting close. He tenses up from the waist down and holds it for a couple of seconds, then yanks me up in his arms, pulls us to the middle of the bed, and flips himself on top. Settlin' over me, his eyes blazing and holdin' a whole host of questions, he pulls off a glove and lightly traces his bare fingers over my cheek, down my nose, and across my lips. Then he leans over and kisses me, gently at first, lettin' it linger for several seconds, and then his mouth hardens over mine, deepening the kiss. My lord, him kissin' me like this is makin' my head spin...

He pulls back and stares, his hand still caressin' my face, now pushin' my hair out of my eyes. "Anna Marie, there's a story here I know you just _itchin_ ' to tell me, and believe me when I say I wanna hear all about it." He comes back for a quick, hard kiss. " _After_ ," he adds with a growl just before he smashes my mouth in another kiss, his teeth clackin' on mine and everything.

From there, he's all hands, fingers, lips, teeth, tongue, and fantastic, perfect-as-a-wet-dream body all over me, and _believe_ me when I say he's leavin' nothing untouched or unkissed.

God, who knew havin' him drag that mouth of his down the exposed bits of my body, licking under fabric, pushin' out of the way, too, would feel so _good_? That havin' his tongue rim and dip into my navel would send shivers up my spine? I mean, it ain't like I'm entirely brand new to skin on skin, kinda the nature of my power- I get a front-row seat to _everything_ my victim experienced. And I _sure_ as hell hadn't expected his teeth grazing my bared hipbone, or a soft nibble just inside of it, would tickle in such a way that I'd double up in a mix of gasps and giggles. I've _never_ been ticklish! And _ohhhhhhh_ my lord, holy fuckin' mackerole, havin' him pull my panties to the side and plant that mouth on my clit, and go on to eat out _everything_ in the Dirty South... that man had long ago made a habit of goin' down on me over panties, stockings, silk scarves, edibles, lubes, any barrier he could think of, since the first time we'd had sex, but that's absolutely _nothing_ compared to _this_...

He gets me off hard and fast, and while I'm still dazed and starry eyed, he crawls back up over me, lickin' his lips and wiping off his chin, and I swear it, soon as I can move again, I'mma git that boy good, just need a min- "Chere, listen. I never, ever thought I'd be able to love y' like this, stopped lettin' m'self imagine it long before you ever even chanced a date on me. I was perfectly happy wit' the way things were, comin' up wit' all the ways I could make y' mine, and this," he closes his eyes, touchin' his forehead to mine, "mon dieu, cherie, words ain't really wit' me right now, an' I know this just some stupid holiday, but...I love you so goddamn much, always will, always have, I think."

 _Awwwww_! See Exhibit A, why I'm husbanding this fool.

Seriously, folks, this shit right here? I don't get this often. I mean, yeah, Remy has said plenty of _I-love-you_ 's, and he's always showin' it through actions. But he doesn't do this, where he's all in his feels and missin' his words and what-not. He keeps a tight lid on himself, he's cooler than this. _We're_ cooler than this, we ain't a sappy, sweet couple. Which is why when it happens? Suddenly, I ain't Miss Cool anymore, either, and why I can feel tears threatening, and I just can't-

 _Oh_ goddammit, I'm snifflin', and this just ain't cute, ruinin' my sexy as hell moment here, messin' up my makeup, which is actually fuckin' _on point_ today, and I'm an ugly crier, anyw-

"Ah, chere, lookit you," he murmurs, droppin' soft kisses all over my face, and I can tell he's about say something else that's too stinkin' sweet, and I'm not gonna let 'im, because I'd really like to not burst into tears like I did when he proposed (god, and that asshole won't ever let me live that shit down, took a selfie while hugging a blubbering, _ruined_ me, holdin' up my hand to show off the ring).

Locking arms and legs around him, I pull his mouth in for a kiss and the delicious weight of his body into mine before flippin' us over and pinning him down with hard thighs and my hands pushing flat on his chest. "Look at me, Cajun?" I grin down wickedly at him, leaning over to lick his lip, bite it. "Yes, you look up here at me. You tell me _all_ about how much you love me while showin' me all about it, too, by puttin' your dick in where your mouth was a little while ago."

Remy, Lord bless him, he quickly goes from lovestruck heart-eyes and dopey smile to sly, hot eyes and a shit-eatin' smirk as he charges my new lingerie to a little pop of nothing. "Girl, my mouth's been _a lotta_ places in the past little while, how about you tell me, in the nastiest way possible, just exactly where it is y' wantin' my dick to go, and how you want it once it's there, yeah?" He smacks my ass, grabs hard enough to make me hiss at him. "And sweetheart," he starts crooning in the most god-awful, schmoopiest voice ever, "roses are red, violets are blue, I ain't too good at singin' or poetry, but I'm real damn good at lovin' y- _h-hey_ , chere!" He laugh-gasps and swats my hand away as I pinch his nipple, "jus' tryin' to say happy Valentine's Day to the absolute love of my life, you ain't gotta- _ohhhhh_ , _Jesus fuck_ , Anna-"

I cut him off with a hard slide on his dick and a noisy kiss on his mouth. The hell else am I supposed to do with 'im right now, when he's being like this? Besides, there's only so much naked, kissy-kissy time with sex-god Remy a girl who's completely ass over end in love with him can take all at once without gettin' it in, you know?

Sitting up, I grab his hands off my my ass and squeeze 'em over my boobs, giving him a wicked roll of my hips that sends his eyes flutterin' up in the back of his head. "Now that I got your dick right where I want it," I lean over and prop myself up on his chest, snappin' my hips over his again, this time hard enough to slam the headboard into the wall, "roses are red and violets really ain't blue, I love you enough to ignore your terrible poetry and even worse singin', so happy Stupid Holiday Day to you, too."


End file.
